


Sandcastles

by Klara_Blum



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bodyswap, Fluff and Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 14:45:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3981967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klara_Blum/pseuds/Klara_Blum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the kinkmeme prompt "Matt and Foggy switch bodies. Hilarity and/or drama ensues."<br/>I'm aiming for 'and' though it starts with lots of drama</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for...very casual acceptance of magic? But that's the only way body-swap fics work. (And anyway it's a universe where odd chemicals give you heightened senses so magic shouldn't be a huge surprise)

It starts of as a boring and straightforward hit-and-run case.  
It becomes an annoying case when the witness they are trying to find turns out to be strangely elusive. They rush from one place to the next and everytime they hear that the people there know whom they’re talking about and he’s been here recently just not right now but they know another place where he might be.  
It turns into a really strange case when they finally find him and call out his name. He shoots them a panicked glare, yells something that doesn’t sound like any language either of them has ever heard and runs away. Foggy wants to go after him but it suddenly feels like he’s walking through cotton and he wonders what just happened. When the feeling has passed the witness is gone.

“What the fuck was that?” Foggy asks.

“I’m not sure…” Matt is hesitant.

“But you have an idea?”

“Well. I was fighting a mugger once who suddenly also started yelling something I couldn’t understand. It felt a lot like this just afterwards and the next three days I felt like haunted by the migraine from hell and the worst hangover ever combined.”

Foggy takes a moment to interpret what Matt just implied. “You hunted a wizard-mugger once and he put a migraine-spell on you?”

“I don’t know. The two things could have been unrelated. I also can’t tell you if that guy just said the same or just if that was in the same language. All I’m saying is that what happened just now felt a lot like what happened back then.

“Whatever”, Foggy shrugs. The list of things that still surprise him has become considerably smaller since he learned that his best friend is secretly a ninja. Magic isn’t that much weirder.

It’s late because they spend the best part of the evening hunting down their witness who turned out to be a wizard (possibly). Foggy’s apartment is closer so he invites Matt to crash on his couch and Matt agrees because he really is tired after this day.

* * *

The odd thing is that the first thing he notices is that he just fell down from his couch and he is certain that he went to his own bed tonight and Matt took the couch. Only then does he notice the pain that has woken him up. It’s everywhere. No it’s just in his head but it’s so unbearably horrible that it feels like it’s everywhere because something so intense can’t possibly be just in one place.

There are screams and some small part of him that’s still capable of rational thought realizes that the screams are the cause of his headache. The screams and the smells. It smells like everything. Like fresh food, burned food and foul food, like animals, like unwashed people and people doused in perfume, like trash and like blood and so much more. Everything together smells disgusting and he wants to throw up except that he’s already screaming in agony and it’s impossible to do both at once.

The fact that he also can’t see is something he only notices as an afterthought. It’s frightening but nowhere near as frightening as the other stuff that’s happening to him.  
And then there is something else. Something that feels good inbetween all that horror. Somebody is hugging him and it feels so intense but also a lot less terrifying than anything else going on. After a while he has calmed down enough to make out that Matt (it has to be him. Who else could it be?) is saying something. It is hard to make out at first but he clings to the words like a drowning man to a life belt and finally they come through. 

“Breathe. Just breathe. In and out.”

He keeps repeating “In and out” while slowly stroking his back and eventually Foggy’s breathing settles into the rhythm.

“You have to…focus on the things close to you. Try to…try drawing smaller and smaller circles until you only really focus on the thing directly in this room.”  
At first Foggy has no idea how that is going to work because everything is just loud. How is he supposed to differentiate between what’s far away and what not? But then he realizes that now that he’s calmer he can. There’s a couple arguing on the street, a dog is howling. He pushes that and all the other things happening on the street away. Just like the guy in the apartment above him who is taking a late (early?) shower and the woman below him who is watching TV. It all becomes background-noise and it’s still painfully loud but it’s a pain he’s already used to. He focusses on Matt, his breath, his heartbeat (both faster than necessary but then this is expected in this situation), his voice that’s still telling him what to do, and just his everything and he manages to calm down.  
Or perhaps he should say Matt-in-Foggy’s-body’s everything because now he can clearly hear that Matt voice doesn’t sound like Matt’s voice at all. It’s obvious what happened.  
He pauses at the thought and remembers how two months ago his life consisted of hoping that the law-firm he had with his best friend would one day make enough money for him to afford a nice holiday and some fancy presents for his family. Now he’s woken up in the middle of the night in excruciating pain and after having calmed down his first thought is that obviously a wizard must have though he and his superhero-vigilante-ninja best friend need their own version of Freaky Fucking Friday and he doesn’t consider that strange at all. Foggy almost wants to laugh if it wasn’t so terrifying. 

Matt is still telling him to breathe and to focus and his voice sounds dry and strained as if he’s been doing that for a long time by now. Foggy raises his hand because he doesn’t yet trust his voice.

“Foggy?” 

“Yeah.” 

Then there’s silence - or what passes for silence when you can hear everything. What is there to say?

When he is fairly certain that he can speak without sounding hysterical he says “Could you - uhm - some water? I’m parched and you sound like you could need some as well.”

Matt has jumped up and is halfway through the room before he’s finished the sentence. For a moment he has to fight another wave of panic after Matt’s hand disappears from his back but he quickly recovers and remembers that he can feel Matt anyway. That’s the only thing that’s keeping him sane for the moment. It’s a very fragile sanity, like a carefully constructed and elaborate sand-castle made out of bone-dry sand. Just going near to look at it will bring it crashing down and Foggy rather doesn’t want to be in the same room with himself when that happens. But as long as Matt is here he’ll manage — at least that’s what he hopes for the sake of them both.


	2. Chapter 2

Matt's hands are shaking when he's pouring some water. Absent-minded he checks with his finger if the glass is full instead of looking at it. Considering everything still looks fuzzy it’s probably better anyway. He doubts he’d be able to tell when a glass is full of a clear liquid.  
His own words echo in his mind and they're just as loud as the noise he usually hears.

_I'd give anything to see the sky one more time._

He can't remember how often he said that. It's not something he tells everybody but his blindness comes up in conversations often enough. When he's certain that the other person cares about him not as some abstract concept that needs to be pitied but as an actual human being he tells them. Because it's the truth. Or at least he had thought that.  
Now he knows that there are things he is not willing to give. Like his best friend's sanity.  
Of course Foggy's couch stands right below the window so he can see the sky and Foggy crouching on the couch, hugging his knees and too scared to even move.  
Matt himself has a headache that’s worse than any he’s ever had because his brain can’t cope with suddenly _seeing_ again but he’s used to ignoring pain especially when there are more important things to worry about. And right now there are.

Of course the worst thing is that the sky is beautiful. Not that anybody would agree with him on that. It's the sky over Hell's Kitchen in the middle of the night. The light-pollution of the city is drowning out most stars so there's only blackness, the silhouettes of countless buildings and a half-moon almost out of his line of sight. Additionally he still sees everything a bit blurred (he imagines that this is what near-sightedness must feel like) so what he sees are yellow splashes and grey shapes in front of a black background. Nothing anybody would want as framed picture in his home. It's still beautiful and he hates himself for noticing it.

Carefully he carries the water back and helps Foggy grab it. He immediately empties the whole glass.

"You're not thirsty?"

"No."  
He just spent over an hour repeating the same phrases again and again in the hope that some of it would sink through to his friend who was screaming in agony. His throat feels like sandpaper.

"You're sure?"

That's when he loses it. He jumps up and yells: "Yeah, _that_ is the important thing we should worry about right now. _My_ well-being. Because clearly in this situation I have it worst."

There's a long moment of silence then Foggy looks at him (well more at his shoulder) and says: "This isn't your fault."

Foggy is so calm about everything now. That just makes it worse.  
"Have you any idea how much...how often I wondered how it would be? I thought about how it would be if I could see and I thought about how it would be like if I couldn't hear _everything_." He chokes a sob before he continues, "I didn't once think how it would be if I had both at once because that was just far outside the realm of possibilities that I didn't even consider it. And now..." He makes a vague arm-gesture without knowing what exactly he wants to say with it and without knowing if Foggy can notice it.

"Occasionally thinking about having what the majority of people take for granted also doesn't make this your fault. Unless you recently met a mysterious man who warned you that if we try to chase this guy we're going to end up in each other bodies and you failed to tell me about it."

"Well...no."

"Then it's _not your fault_."

Matt opens his mouth even though he doesn't quite know what he wants to say but Foggy is faster. "And if you say 'but' now or continue to blame yourself I am going to punch you." After a short pause he adds: "Though I'd have to ask you to come closer first because I don't quite trust myself to get up and walk, yet."

He has to smile at that and then sobs again. "How are you...so calm about this?"

That leads to a very hysterical chuckle. "I'm not. Like not at all. I'm one tiny step away from freaking out much worse than I ever freaked out. And you are the only person who can stop me from doing that. But if you're busy freaking out yourself or beating yourself up you won't be able to do that and I really _really_ want to avoid this because have I mentioned how fucking close I am to freaking out?" His breathing had become quicker and quicker while talking and has now reached the speed of _too damn fast and this can't be healthy_.  
In two steps Matt is behind Foggy again, hugging him and whispering "I'm here. I'm here."


	3. Chapter 3

For a while they just cling to each other and soon Foggy isn't sure who is comforting whom anymore. He doesn't need the salty smell to know that Matt is crying because he's shaking and there is an occasional chocked sob. He remembers their big argument, how Matt had cried then and how, even though he had been furious there had also been a small part of him that had been heartbroken about how miserable his friend was. Foggy had hoped that he would never had to see Matt in such a state.  
It seems the universe had decided to grant him that wish in the most fucked-up matter possible. He can't say that he shares the universes’ sense of humor.

"Do you need something else?"

"Yeah. For you to really drink something. Your voice is _actually_ hurting my ears right now."   
And it does. It sounds odd and scratchy. OK, perhaps it's more unpleasant than painful but it's also a fool-proof way to make Matt get up, shuffle back to the kitchen and finally drink something.  
After that Matt just...stays at the kitchen-counter and seems to do not much except for some movement of his upper body. Foggy first wants to ask but then decides he can as well try out Matt's freaky super-senses a bit more as he doesn’t have any other distraction at the moment (and he _really_ needs one).   
So far he has only focused on Matt. He has a vague idea about the other things in the room but he wagers that that has more to do with the fact that he knows his flat well. Now he carefully extends his focus and tries to sense the things surrounding Matt.   
Of course.   
He should have guessed that without the help of any enhanced senses.

"You know I have an actual mirror in the bedroom. In case you get tired of trying to catch your reflection in the kitchen-sink. Or well...my reflection."

Matt just keeps on standing there and stiffens. Perhaps he's embarrassed (though you could hardly accuse him of vanity). Or perhaps he's at least a bit freaked because he's on the receiving end of his almost mind-reading for once. (Which would serve him right).

"Bedroom," he repeats. "Light-switch is on the right and so high up that I wonder if the first owner was a giant."

"Thanks."

He can hear the footsteps and his bedroom-door opening. Then the click-sound of his light-switch. 

“Ugh.”

“Everything OK?”

“Yeah. It’s just…light.”  
(Perhaps one of them should have thought of that).

“Just a moment. Now it’s OK. Mostly.”

A few more steps and then Matt's heart sounds weird and jumpy. As he's not in the habit of listening to other people's hearts he has no idea what exactly that means. 

"So? Big revelation? Disappointed?"

" _No._ "   
More odd heart-sounds. Then footsteps coming towards him again. (No click indicating that Matt turned off the light again but one can't really blame him for forgetting).

"So what then?"

"Just...good."

"Good?"   
He's tempted to take a quip at his looks but Matt sounds so… _solemn_.

"How exactly do you mean that?"

Matt lets out a frustrated sigh. "It's kind of hard to put in words."

"Try. You have time as I'm not going anywhere anytime soon." Jokes are his usual coping mechanism for…well anything really. Perhaps it’s not the best thing to do now but at least Matt doesn’t start another string of apologies.

"Well...it's not that I feel that I'm missing out because I don't know how somebody looks like. I'm doing fine without it. And the fact that I now have more than a vague idea of how you look like won't change anything but at the same time..." Another frustrated sigh and he can't remember Matt ever being that lost for words. "I _know_ you. And I don't mean because of my...powers. We we're roommates, you're my best friend, we work together...I know what your comfort-foods are, your favorite ice-cream and so much more. But...but the guy that serves you your coffee knows more about your looks than I ever thought I would. And they don't even have to do anything for it except...well look at you. It's...it's not exactly something I usually dwell too much on but now I had the chance to change this and well...that feels good. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah."


	4. Chapter 4

The main reason that it happens is because Foggy keeps his apartment so tidy. Well parts of it at least. There is always a stack of dirty dishes next to the sink (he must hope that tzewill one day get cleaned by magic). But the floor is tidy enough that Matt never needed to pay much attention. There never is any clutter on the ground and furniture stands out easily even if he doesn't take special care to focus on his surroundings.  
Only that it just stands out to somebody with heightened senses. Anybody with ordinary ones needs to watch where they are going. And Matt is still distracted by the view from the window (the first sunrays have appeared. It's still nothing that would sell well on postcards but the world outside is no longer just black and gray). Which is why he falls over the couch-table and takes down a book and a few magazines that are lying there. 

There’s a moment of silence before Foggy asks “Did you just fall over my furniture?”

“Yes.” He tries and fails to muster some dignity in his answer. He doesn't think he is terribly successful with it. 

“Has it escaped you that, well, you can see at the moment and that you don’t need to fall over stuff?”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me? I’d never noticed that if you hadn’t told me.”

It’s not exactly a great joke and it doesn't justify the hysterical laughter both of them break into afterwards but then laughing is better than the alternatives. Like more crying, shouting or freaking out.  
Matt sits down on the couch again because that reduces the danger of falling over more things.  
“What time is it?”  
He grabs his watch that lies on the table. Before he remembers that currently there is no need to open it and feel for the hands and face he’s already read it in the same way he’s done for the last twenty years.  
“Just past five.”

“Somebody needs to call Karen. Later of course but I don’t think I’m going anywhere today and you…” he trails off.

“I’m _not_ leaving you here alone.”

“I admit I had hoped that. And not only because I worry that you might fall over more things on the way to the office. Everything is a bit scary right now.”  
Matt decides not to point out that he knows exactly how much more than _a bit scary_ everything is when one wakes up with no eyesight but all other senses heightened. They both know that.  
“So in that case we should tell her that there is no point for her to come. And by ‘we’ I mean the person who is able to use a phone. Mine has a touchscreen.”

“Right. Because I'm such an expert with those.”

“If my grandmother could figure out how to use them so can you.”

* * *

Touchscreens are _not_ easy to use. Or perhaps they are and they’re just too bright. He should probably be grateful for waking up in the middle of the night so that he could get used to everything in relative darkness first. After some time with just the light from outside he had even been able to switch the light in Foggy’s bedroom on without feeling much more than some dizziness. But holding the screen close to his face makes him feel like his eyes are bleeding and his head is about to explode.  
In the end he uses his own phone and hands it to Foggy after dialling because neither can come up with a logical explanation about why they should have swapped their phones.  
Foggy pleads some bad Chinese takeway the day before as reason for both of them being unable to come. He sounds appropriately miserable so Matt hopes Karen is convinced. He also wonders if Foggy is pretending to be more miserable than he actually is for Karen or if he pretended to be less miserable for his sake the whole time. He’s not sure if he really wants an answer to that.  
On the phone Foggy continues to assure Karen that while they’re not fine they are also not dying. They just need some rest. No there’s no reason for her to come over. (That is of course the sensible thing to say and he can’t blame Foggy for doing so. Having her over would make everything even more complicated. He’s sure that Karen already suspects that they’re keeping something from. If she came over now a certain awkwardness would be unavoidable and she would be even more suspicious. It’s much better this way.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had somehow assumed Matt would have a phone that has a keyboard and he'd use a mixture of that and speech-control with it. After I had written this chapter I have found out that the phone we see him use in the show is also a touchscreen which is then obviously purely speech-controlled. This means the last part sounds perhaps a bit odd? But I'm too unfamiliar with voice-controlled devices to write specific stuff about them (apparently there are some that learn and somehow get used to your voice? Which would make this situation additionally complicated).  
>  ~~I doubt that many would have noticed if I hadn't pointed this out now but I just am this kind of person.~~  
>  And I stop now before the A/N gets longer than the chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

Saying that Fogy has gotten used to the situation is wrong but he's dealing with it. He just no longer needs most of his strength to block out unwanted sensations. When his thoughts wander away from the here and now he isn't overwhelmed by an onslaught of sensations anymore.

The downside of that is of course that his thoughts are wandering away from the here and now and drag up memories. Or rather _one_ memory of a moment he is not proud of at all.

Foggy could have sworn that he hasn't done anything that indicates his discomfort but Matt still manages to pick up on it. He's probably right when he says that Foggy doesn't give him enough credit and that a lot of the things he knows about him have nothing to do with heartbeats and everything with knowing Foggy for years.

 

"Is there something? Apart from the obvious I mean?"

 

"What makes you think that?"

 

"You...you seem...odd?"

 

"You only notice that now? Pretty sure I've always been odd." He ends with a chuckle that he knows sounds far too fake. It's not that Foggy doesn't want to talk about it. He'd just have preferred to have some time to collect his thoughts and prepare what exactly he wants to say.

 

"Foggy _please_." Matt is begging and feeling guilty again even though he has no reason to. The opposite in fact.

"I need to apologize."

" _What?_ "

"Back...when we had our fight," (Matt's heart skips even at that vague mention), "I suggested...I accused you of lying about not being able to see and I am really sorry about that because now I realized how utterly wrong I was about that."

He just hadn't been able to believe that somebody could be completely blind but still win a fight against five or more men. Even later, after (several) calmer discussions with Matt that was something he hadn't quite been able to wrap his head around that. Now he knew that _seeing_ and _knowing where things are_ were two very different things.

"Oh." is all Matt says for a while. Then "You were angry. And you had every right to be. And with everything else...I...I can't really blame you."

His heart-rate doesn't change so that must be the truth. But Foggy doesn't fail to notice that _I don't blame you_ and _It didn't hurt_ are again two different things.

 

"Don't worry. I'm doing enough of that myself at the moment."

 

Matt shuffles closer to him till their knees are touching. "Usually you're the one telling me I shouldn't blame myself for everything. Did we switch personalities as well?"

 

"I'm serious."

 

"So am I. That night isn't among my happier memories for so many reason and...and what you said is among them but I can't imagine what I'd have done in your place."

When Foggy doesn't answer, Matt continues: "You know recently a wise man gave me a very passionate speech about how I shouldn't beat myself up over things that aren't my fault. I think 'Things said while being furious for perfectly valid reasons' do fall in that category."

 

He has to chuckle despite himself. "Wise man? Really?"

 

"Incredibly wise."

 

He feels Matt's head on his shoulder. Or rather _his own head_. That is a line of thought that he hasn't spent that much time due to being busy with other things. But now he can't ignore all the long hair he's feeling and it's just _weird_. (He isn't sure if he can call it a small mercy but somehow he is glad that he can't see himself in this situation. It would be too strange on top of everything else).

On the other hand it gives him the possibility to do something else. He prepares himself to make sure that he's not missing, reaches over and pulls at a strand of the hair. Lightly. (More or less).

 

"Outch!"

 

"Payback for all the times you did that to me when there would have been a variety of other ways to get my attention."

 

"They were all less fun."

 

"For that comment alone you deserved this." He reaches out again but Matt catches his hand in time.

 

"I take the wise man back."

 

"I could have told you that immediately. I’m like the least wise person I know."

 

“Possibly with the exception of me.”

 

“Possibly”


	6. Chapter 6

The doorbell rings. This is...not good. Things are already complicated enough at the moment.

"Are you expecting somebody?"

"No."

Matt gets up, hoping that it's just the mailman delivering a package and not one of Foggy's relatives coming for a surprise-visit. No way they would get through that. Or worse: Marci. Her turning up would be awkward for so many reasons.

"Hi Foggy!"

Definitely not the mailman. Matt isn't sure how much time he spends staring at their visitor. Or if the time he needs to figure it out is acceptable considering the circumstances or if he should have been quicker.

" _Karen!_ " He basically squeaks.

"Yes. That is my name." She sounds confused and the face she pulls probably matches her voice but he isn't exactly an expert at reading those. 

"I know you said that I don't need to come but Matt sounded so miserable on the phone. And you look miserable by the way. Anyway so I thought I drop by with my family's secret food-poisoning-relief."

"Secret what?"

Karen makes her way into the kitchen and pulls a box out of her handbag that she waves around. Too quickly for him. He's just adjusted to non-moving things.

"That has helped _everybody_ with an upset stomach so far."

She grabs the electric kettle and fills it.  
Tea.  
 _Strong smelling tea._ he discovers when Karen opens the box. He's standing a few steps away from her but still gets hit with a whiff of chamomile.  
On the couch Foggy winces.

"You really don't sound good. Sure you don't want to go to a doctor just to be safe?" Karen asks sympathetically.

"Absolutely sure." Foggy mutters and buries his head under the couch-pillow. Which is something he really should not do. Matt happens to know that this pillow hasn't been near a washing-machine since ages. Foggy realizes that as well now, throws the pillow away and just winces again. 

Not knowing what else to do Matt sits down again and waits till Karen comes over, placing two steaming cups in front of them.

“I put them on the table.”

“I can smell that.” Foggy groans. “What is in that?”

“Family secret.” Karen just grins (and looks adorable while doing so).

Matt takes Foggy’s cup and carefully guides his hands around it because he really shouldn’t practice the whole ‘Picking up drinks without seeing them’ with something hot. Only then does he take a sip from his own. It tastes absolutely disgusting (there’s definitely also peppermint in there. _Peppermint and chamomile_. They’re bad enough on their own). Foggy shares this opinion and neither of them is in a state to hide that fact.

Karen sounds somewhat indignant. “It does help you know.”

“I don’t even doubt that.” Foggy says while carefully placing the cup back on the table. “And I’m sure it’s not just for stomach-ache but for everything. Everybody just gets better out of fear of having to drink more of that if they don’t.”

“I am glaring at you.” Karen informs him. 

“But she doesn't look too threatening while doing it.” Matt can’t help adding. That earns him a glare (and that might just be what he has hoped would happen, actual eye-contact with her and not having to try to be not be too obvious about staring at her).

“You know I will let that pass because both of you look like you’re _really_ not feeling well at all. Once you’re better this sort of behavior will not be tolerated.”

“We’re already quavering in fear.” Foggy grins. Karen continues glaring.


	7. Chapter 7

Foggy can’t help letting out a relieved sigh when Karen leaves. There is of course the worry that either of them would slip up and the subsequent explanations hat would have been necessary. But more plainly there is the fear of more of that tea. She had made sure that both of them finish theirs before leaving. (Foggy silently vows to never ever admit to an upset stomach in front of Karen ever. If necessary he will claim something else like coma or death).

 

“How do you eat like anything at all?” he groans while burying his head in the couch. Or trying to for about a second before he bolts back again. He puts _cleaning the couch somehow_ on his mental to-do list.

 

“I have trained myself to block a lot out while eating. It doesn’t work completely and I still get to know much more than I want to about the stuff I’m eating but it helps.”

 

“I’m sure at least one of the ingredients was off. Or perhaps Karen needs to keep her cupboards cleaner.”

 

“You tell her that.”

 

“I value my life too much for that.”

 

He’d almost added something like ‘Or well right now it’s sort of your life, really.’ But he can’t quite bring himself to joke about that already. Not to mention that _right now_ could lead to questions about how long _this_ is going to last. He isn’t deluding himself. The fact that he just worked with the assumption that _this_ would be only temporary played a large part in keeping him sane so far but it’s not like he has any good reason to be certain about that. Sure Matt has mentioned that weird headache-spell which lasted for three days but this spell has clearly done a lot more than cause migraines so it could also last a lot longer (or well, forever). Body-swap comedies never end with the duo stuck in each other’s bodies forever but they could hardly be considered documentaries.

Fact is: Foggy really really does not want to start a conversation about this topic because even without hearing his heartbeat Matt would be able to tell that ‘I am totally fine and don’t mind if we’re stuck like this for a while’ was a lie.  
And Matt is far too, well, _Matt_ to wish all of this – his life – on anybody permanently but Foggy remembers how he sounded when he talked about not hearing everything all the time. If Matt now insisted that he would be fine if everything was back to normal again immediately Foggy would also be able to spot the lie.  
So – yeah – really not a discussion he wants to have right now considering it wouldn’t lead anywhere.

 

“You are…thinking about something.” Matt observes though he almost sounds like he’s asking a question. It dawns on Foggy that he probably isn’t completely sure since he can’t be that great at reading facial expressions. He can’t help feeling at least a little relieved about that since he’s frequently been told that his thought and feelings show plainly on his face most of the time and he doesn’t want Matt to guess only parts of his thought-process. On the other hand Matt must have had similar thoughts so it's likely he guessed Foggy’s anyway.

He really needs to stop with all of this. It just makes his head hurt. So he changes the topic completely.

 

“We should go out for a bit.”

 

“What?” Matt is completely thrown off by that.

 

“Yeah, just a bit. Fresh air and all that.”

 

_Yes. The famous fresh and unpolluted air of Hell’s Kitchen. People from everywhere come here just to experience it._  
But what else was he supposed to say? ‘I won’t let you stare at my walls for God knows how long this is going to take?’ Not that Matt wouldn’t be able to guess his real reasoning.  
 _Stop_ , he tells himself, _not another round of he knows what I’m thinking and I know he knows. We established that this won’t get us anywhere._

 

“Are you sure you’re up for this, I mean…” Matt makes some vague gestures.

 

“You’ll need to help a bit but I can manage a short walk.”

* * *

He might have been a bit overconfident about his abilities. Being able to tell what’s around him while sitting still is one thing, doing the same when moving is entirely different. At first it feels like the picture of his surrounding is repainted completely with every step and that’s terrifying. He half-expects something to suddenly appear out of nothing. The fact that Matt is surprisingly (unsurprisingly?) bad at guiding doesn’t help either. It’s less gentle guiding and more roughly dragging him away from obstacles in the last moment.  
Still they eventually manage to fall in some sort of rhythm and end up…somewhere. Foggy has no idea where because he was too busy to pay attention to where exactly they were going or just how long it took them to get here. They must be close to the Hudson because he can hear it clearly (and smell it as well which is…unpleasant) but that’s all he can tell. They sit down and Foggy lets his head rest on Matt’s shoulder. There is a comfort in physical contact he’s just not getting from the sound of a heartbeat or smells.

He has no idea how long they’re just sitting there, talking about nothing in particular but mostly in silence. His time-perception is pretty screwed up at the moment. It might be 30 minutes or 3 hours .

The way back is easier but not by much. When he sinks back on his couch he feels like he ran a marathon and not just taken a walk. He is not going to take another step outside for quite some time.  
He considers telling Matt that he doesn’t mind if he goes out alone for a bit when he really would mind because the thought of being alone in his current state terrifies him. However Matt seems to have reached a stage where he can read Foggy’s thoughts on his face rather well. Or perhaps Matt just knows him.

 

“Thanks for…that. Probably not the most enjoyable experience for you.”

 

“I had better times.” Foggy admits.

 

“I don’t…I’m going to stay with you for…now matter long this takes. I don’t need to get out and do..." There's a short silence. Belatedly Foggy realizes that Matt must have shrugged or done a similar 'whatever'-gesture he missed because he was too exhausted to pay attention.

"It’s not so much about seeing anything concrete.”

 

He isn’t quite following. “But something…inconcrete?”

 

“I…you know…remember colors. The basic ones. I know what I have to imagine when somebody talks about yellow or green. But nuances…imagining a green and a darker green is…is a lot harder. I sometimes miss that. And I don’t need to go anywhere to see that.”

 

There isn’t much to say after that so he just murmurs “Thanks.”

* * *

The spell doesn’t last forever. It doesn’t even last three days but barely one and a half. One and a half days in which neither of them sleeps much. But in the end both just collapse from exhaustion.

 

Foggy wakes up because he feels like he’s been thrown in cotton and because the world is silent again. He blinks a few times and the blurred shapes around him slowly take on form and he can make out his bedroom. His second hand wardrobe that doesn’t fit in the room, his lamp that really needs to be dusted. Who would have thought that he’d ever sigh in relief at the sight of his furniture?  
Matt is lying next to him. He doesn’t move but his breathing is far too quick for a relaxed sleep. Foggy lies down again and drapes his arm around him. Matt huddles closer to him and his breathing is slowly relaxing again.


End file.
